


in the hidden shadows

by fangsty



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, During Canon, F/M, Guilt, Infidelity, Pining, Rejection, Unresolved Sexual Tension, drunk beth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27815356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangsty/pseuds/fangsty
Summary: The night after the Paris match, they meet again.
Relationships: Vasily Borgov/Beth Harmon
Comments: 20
Kudos: 139





	in the hidden shadows

**Author's Note:**

> title from eclipse - kim lip
> 
> I didn’t go into TQG expecting to get into this ship but here I am, gravitating towards the most scandalous pairing because that’s just who I am.

It’s mere coincidence that he runs into Elizabeth Harmon— _ Beth, _ as she insisted on being called—the night after their rematch. For him that was the most disappointing display of her skill, ingenuity, and chess prowess that he knows lurks within her. It was obvious to anyone that she was off during their match. If during their first match in Mexico City, Beth had not yet reached her full potential, at Paris she had robbed herself of the opportunity of reaching it. He could only guess what had happened the previous night to make her that way. She simultaneously played much more recklessly, yet indecisively than she had in her previous matches that tournament, making a crucial mistake that she knew he would notice and methodically take her down with. A victory is a victory, but it left him empty. 

He had to get away just for that night. He needed time to process how he felt, to clear his head, to have distance from the others who were perpetually by his side. A grandmaster kept under watch by KBG guards and a family man with obligations to his wife and son, Borgov found solitude to be a rare experience these days.

The beautiful grand hotel beckoned him, so he’d decided to make a lap around the place and was on his way back to his room when he spots Beth standing in the dim hotel lobby. 

There she stood, looking even worse than she had that morning. Still in that white (or was it a pale blue?) dress with black accents, her hair’s disheveled and her face is flushed with makeup smudged. The only difference between then and now is her level of drunkenness. She unsteadily paces around in no particular direction. The emptiness of the room makes her look small. 

She hears the soft click of his loafers on marble before she sees him and freezes at the sight. Vasily Borgov out so late—all by himself. The surprise on her face is apparent. Her expression is as if he was not really there. Maybe in her state she thought she saw a ghost. 

A bud of concern grows in Borgov seeing her like this. In the moment when she knew she lost and a few discreet tears slipped out in front of him, he felt it twinge in his heart, but there was no comfort he could offer her then. Not in front of everyone, especially not the press or his family. Beth would not have wanted it from her opponent anyway. Not from the one who had beaten her twice.

But it’s too much now, and he can’t leave her alone out here. Carefully, he approaches Beth. She’s on the defensive immediately, closing herself off to him. She shivers in the chill night in nothing but her thin dress. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice hoarse and dry. 

He swallows, thinking of how to say it. “I needed to be alone,” he responds in his best English. 

Beth nods slowly. She is the same in some ways. As another child chess prodigy, she understands their plight, perhaps on another level than others. She understands better than most players because unlike them, chess was their whole life. 

Reaching his arm out, Borgov offers support. She spends several long moments looking at his outstretched arm before taking it and hooking her arm into the crook of his elbow. 

Beth’s unstable, her walk jerky. More than once she tips into his side and the warmth of her burns through his suit. It sticks to him like honey even after she withdraws, muttering faint slurred apologies. The cold air seems to amplify the heat.

When they reach the elevator, her arm slips out of his as she stumbles ungracefully into its open doors. With a soft thud, she hits the wall before sliding down to the floor in a heap. Borgov rushes to her, and she looks up at him through hooded eyelashes in a way he doesn’t understand. It is that exact moment that he is struck by the deep pools of her hazel eyes and her bow shaped lips. Her beauty is stunning, even as much of a mess as she is currently. When he played her first, she was still a young woman who hadn’t shed her girlhood. In front of him now is a woman, not a girl. The guilt of his attraction thuds in his ears. 

But he doesn’t hesitate to offer his hand once more. Her hand, soft and small compared to his, takes it firmly. Easily he pulls her to her feet, and the action of hoisting her up leaves them in close proximity to each other. Her back rests against the wall. They’re only centimeters apart, nearly pressed together. Beth’s warm hand lingers for a few seconds on his, then travels up his sleeve and rests lightly on his chest. He makes to take a step back, but her fingers tighten on his lapels, her eyes imploring him not to leave. Whatever willpower he had disappears, and he’s trapped by her gaze. 

With no destination selected, the elevator doors close shut. 

The smell of liquor is strong on her breath. It lingers in the air between them. Her other hand moves up to rest on his cheek, and he finally understands what she wants from him. He thinks again to move away but finds he’s too weak, too tempted to do anything but stay still. The tension between them is so tight it could snap at any second.

Despite himself, despite his wife who pops into his head for but a second _ —despite his guilt— _ when she leans in, he cannot help but meet her halfway. Their first kiss is neither chaste nor sweet. It’s intensely passionate, a dive straight into the deep end. Like her style of play, Beth shows no mercy. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, and her blunt fingernails tread through his short hair. She attacks until he feels has no choice but to give in, and his first thought is how easy it would be to give in—to hike up her dress and pull down her panties, to take her right there and then. 

But it begins to feel wrong in his head. He can’t give in, truly. Not when the taste and smell of liquor overwhelms his senses, overwhelms the real taste of Beth that he genuinely desires. She may think she wants this, wants  _ him, _ but she’s hurting and he knows what she wants is another quick comfort. Sex to compliment the alcohol. Briefly he wonders who of her opponents she’s slept with among those she conquered and whether she’d be breaking the pattern by seducing an opponent she hadn’t yet beat. Perhaps she’d see it as a way she could exert control where she had none in their matches, but it was the other way around. The alcohol controlled her. Borgov has witnessed the signs of it all his life. 

Her moving hand draws him out of his thoughts as it works its way down his chest, lowers down to his growing arousal. He ultimately finds his resolve and catches her wrist in a tight grip before she could touch him. 

“No.” The word terse on his lips as they break apart, breathing hard. “No,” he says again. He can’t bring himself to take advantage of this sad woman. She needs help. She doesn’t need him, a married man twice her age to further complicate their lives—though he fears the damage may have already been done. He almost dashes to the control panel to press the buttons for their floors. When he’s done he takes a place as far away from her as he can within a space that until moments ago didn’t feel so claustrophobic. He didn’t dare look at Beth. He couldn’t let her see his shame.

They arrive at his floor first. When he gets out, ready to go back to his life and his family, Borgov can’t help but glance back as the steel doors shut. 

Beth is confused, hurt. She owlishly blinks away tears, and it pains him that twice today he was the cause. Deep down, he knew he’d hurt her that much more if he didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> mayhaps I’ll write a follow up??? we’ll see, eh.
> 
>  **edit** : I'm overwhelmed by the support and will be working on a sequel cause I want that unresolved tension to be resolved just like everyone else :D.


End file.
